Lady Roxton and the Avebury Baronet
by Regal-Song
Summary: Marguerite finds something she had never really stopped looking for, six years after returning from the Plateau. This is a Marguerite/Roxton story.
1. Chapter 1

All member's of the Lubbock family, in this story, are based on the family of the 1st Baron Avebury, John Lubbock, who was awarded his title in 1900 and later died in 1913. His second wife, Alice Augusta Laurentia Fox Pitt-Rivers, will make her first appearance in chapter 2. Son of the first Baron and Alice, John Birkbeck Lubbock (Who is, true to history, actually the son of Ellen Frances Hordern) is the 2nd Baron Avebury. I've made him the son of Alice for the sake of this story and for the sake of the fact i've reduced the number of the Baron's children from 11 to 6. Hopefully this will all make sense in time and I wish that i could lay it all out for you right now, but i'm afraid more information will give away the plot to the second chapter at least. So, to note, the Lubbock family or, if you will, The Avebury Baronetcy, is based on a real family.

Characters from "The Lost World" are not owned by me.

Elizabeth and Evelyn Roxton and Martha are mine.

--

After nearly four years in her Lady's employ, Martha had learnt that Lady Roxton was an almost unblievable paradox. She'd learnt that it was perfectly alright to holler unladylike, for Lord Roxton, through the acoustical vaulting hallways of the Roxton estate. Though when in the prescence of company, a lady should not speak above the gentle trickle of a stream.

Following her lady across the foyer, Martha did her best to gather up the things Lady Roxton left in her wake and though she was well used to it, when Lady Roxton called up the staircase for her husband, the young girl startled.

Feeling comfortable in her stature, Martha couldn't help but giggle when the Lord of the house himself, appeared at the top of the stairs in all his banquet finery - his white breasted waistcoat and his elegant black bowtie - though it was a miracle she could see the bowtie, for the small pair of arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Knowing that those arms didn't often go far without a pair of chubby legs waddling close behind, the sight caused her to tilt her eyes down to the smaller child with her little hands fisted in his trouser-leg and her cotten-padded bottom dusting the hard-wood floors with each step he took.

Lady Roxton threw Martha a glare and while she felt suitably chastised for laughing at the children's misbehaviour, she knew no punishment was forthcoming. Because as cruel as her Lady's tongue could be, she did not find her joy in punishing her employees. Least of all, when it was unwarranted.

"Come on, John, we'll be late." Lady Roxton hitched her gown and climbed the stairs after Martha who had already set to try and pry the girl from around her Lord's throat. Risking the damaging of her delicately hand-embroidered evening-gown, Lady Roxton bent to wrap her hands around the waist of her youngest child and attempted to pull her away from her father's leg.

"It's like a leech, Marguerite, you have to detach it from the point of contact." His voice bellied laughter and Marguerite glared up at him. He was enjoying this more than he should be.

"May I remind you, Lord Roxton. That you are the one in this mess, not me. And I do_ not_ need instruction on how to handle my own children."

Martha and Lord Roxton shared a knowing look when they each noticed, even as she voiced her protest, Lady Roxton had grasped the child's small fingers and was now tryng to pry them away from the fabric.

"We don't want Daddy to go!" The children cried, though the voice of the youngest came out more like garble.

"Elizabeth Anne! Did you put your sister up to this?" Marguerite looked up to her eldest child, who was still giving Martha and John a terrible time trying to remove her arms from encircling his throat.

"No, Mother." The girl rolled her eyes but with the smirk shared between Lord Roxton and Marguerite proved that, through knowing their daughter, they knew better.

With one final tug, Marguerite went tumbling onto her backside with the baby in her lap and a triumphant look on her face. John nodded his approval down to her as he started pulling at each of Elizabeth's fingers, individually until she finally let go, screaming in Martha's hold.

"Elizabeth." Lord Roxton warned and the child silenced. Leaning over, he picked up the baby and draped her over one arm as he extended the other to help Marguerite stand upright. Her expression thanked him without words, before she turned to her children.

"Now, I want you to behave like ladies while your father and I are gone and if you can't do that-" The baby was staring intently at Marguerite's lips as they moved though Elizabeth was rolling her head over Martha's shoulder. "Elizabeth!" She snapped and the girl straightened up. "-if you can't do that Martha has my permission to send you to your bed without dinner."

"Dinna Dinna!" The baby clapped and Marguerite kissed her forehead and smiled.

"Yes, Evie, Dinner. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes Mother." Elizabeth reluctantly agreed though she wouldn't meet Marguerite's eyes.

Roxton handed Evie to Martha as she was setting Elizabeth to stand on her own feet beside her. He knelt down to kiss Elizabeth's cheek and while doing so, ruffled up her dark curly hair. She narrowed her eyes at him, eyes so uniquely like Marguerite's, though she finally smiled. He said goodnight to Evie and while Marguerite performed much the same ritual, he grabbed their coats and headed for the front door.

"You know-" Roxton said as he slipped Marguerite's shawl over her shoulders. "-considering she has your temperament, I would think a threat like that to be cruel."

"And I suppose you're going to give me a reason why it wasn't?"

He grinned. "Because she has my appetite."

"Yes, a young girl of no more than five years old with the appetite of a fifty year old man. Absolutely charming, Lord Roxton." She headed out the door ahead of him and Roxton laughed as he pulled it closed behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

Even after being back from the plateau for nearly six years and home in Avebury for near to five, Lord and Lady Roxton were only now meeting the Baron of Avebury. Second Baron, to be more precise, who was only just returning to Avebury due to business that had kept him abroad. The first Baron, a strong, agile man in his eighties, was a man Roxton had known quite well and respected a great deal. There was little Marguerite knew of the relationship, apart from the aspect of Roxton's Marriage to the Baron's youngest daughter, Claire. Something to which she'd slowly, very slowly, come to terms with. She'd had to, because with the years they'd spent on the plateau, she deserved something karmically appropriate to hit her for dangling stories of ex-husband's in the dashing and loyal, Lord's face.

"Lord Roxton, such a pleasure to see that face again. And you've changed so much from the boy I knew." Roxton smiled warmly as they were greeted by an elderly woman in a fine gown. Gallantly, he took the lady's hand and kissed it and Marguerite smiled at the small blush that appeared on the woman's cheeks.

"Baroness Avebury, it's lovely to see you again. May I introduce, my wife, Lady Marguerite Roxton." He gestured to Marguerite as he patted the hand she had in the pit of his elbow and Marguerite painted her face with the most pleasent of smiles.

"Baroness I-"

The Baroness was staring at her. If she were less of a lady, she'd have likely been slack-jawed, though her expression was simply blank and focused. "Your name is Marguerite?"

Marguerite glanced at Roxton, then turned back to the Baroness. "Yes."

"Marguerite." The Baroness whispered and Marguerite was feeling somewhat uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"Yes." Was all she knew to answer because the lady's actions were rather strange, even with the weird and wonderful they'd seen on the plateau. "...My name is Marguerite."

Suddenly, the Baroness shook her head and smiled warmly. "My apologies, dear, you caught me off-guard. You remind me of someone I once knew. Please, please come in." She gestured them into the large house and with the flury of gestures she made all the way to the dining room, the awkwardness of the moment ebbed away, for all but Marguerite.

All through the marvelous dinner, Marguerite sensed the Baroness was watching her. Every so often, when Roxton was enraptured by a hunting story the Lubbock brothers were recounting, she'd glance toward the Baroness - seated at the head of the table beside her son the Baron Avebury - she would quickly look away.

As the party retreated to the ball room and the sound of Violins and a deep Cello filled the halls. Marguerite felt a tug at her hand and absently started to dance with Roxton. She knew he'd eventually notice her own strange behaviour and decided that, instead of having him breach the subject, she would do it herself.

"Have you noticed anything strange about the Baroness?" She asked him, hugging closer to his chest for both warmth and privacy.

"No, why?"

"She's been staring at me all night."

"Oh, Marguerite, you're just being paranoid." He laughed and Marguerite abruptly stopped dancing.

"No. I'm not." Dropping his hands, Marguerite headed out of the ballroom and into one of the empty hallways of the house. Leaving her husband standing in the centre of the dancefloor with a very confused and somewhat lost expression on his face. She wasn't angry with him, not really, though she couldn't precisely place where her anger had come from. She felt awkward in this house, almost like she shouldn't be here. As she slowed her pace, internally coaxing herself to calm down, she looked up at the many paintings lining the walls. She studied the faces of ancestors dating back hundreds of years.

As the sounds of the party dimmed the further she walked and Marguerite found herself wandering into a small library filled with leatherbound first editions and no small amount of dust, she set her eyes on a painting above the small fireplace.

"My husband, John Lubbock."

Marguerite startled and turned around to see Baroness Avebury standing in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, i'll go back to the party." Marguerite rushed to move past her, feeling even more uncomfortable the longer she spent with this woman, but Baroness Avebury grabbed her arm and met her eyes.

"Please, I must speak with you."

"Me?" Marguerite, not so delicately, pulled her arm away.

"Yes, I..." Baroness Avebury walked past her and took a seat on the large leather sofa. "-I have questions."

"About me?" Even with the Baroness patting the sofa beside her, Marguerite didn't make a move to sit.

"Yes, I-I don't know quite how to say this..." Marguerite's eyes became glossy, as she looked into the dark-green eyes of this woman. Moving to stand in front of a chair, any chair, Marguerite watched the Baroness very closely as she took a deep breath.

"Thirty-six years ago, I had a daughter"

Marguerite dropped into the chair behind her and one tear broke free. "No." She gasped, holding a hand against her stomach as she sobbed, all the while, she couldn't look away from the woman sitting, poised and strong before her.

"She was the most beautiful baby, I-." The slight tremor in her voice was the only thing that gave away the Baroness as she looked away from Marguerite's penetrating gaze. Marguerite couldn't speak, she couldn't move. She stared at the Baroness and the Baroness stared at the floor. " -When I saw you tonight, my heart it..." She could barely speak the words.

The thought didn't even register in Marguerite's mind. She didn't wonder what it was like, after all these years, to stand before a woman that could be your daughter, to see her grown and beautiful, strong and happy and know that you had no part in it. To look her in the eye and see yourself and a stranger at the same time. She didn't think of how the Baroness felt. All she could see, through the haze of tears in her eyes and the terrible pregnant silence between them, was the life she'd suffered alone.

"Are you my mother?" The words left her lips without her ever realising it. The Baroness finally met her eyes, her head tilted up quickly and Marguerite could see the tears that matched her own. She watched the Baroness steel herself and stand, she stepped towards her and Marguerite leaned as far away as she could. But the Baroness moved closer and as she elegantly bent to her knees before her, she clasped Marguerite's locket with her fingers and popped it open.

Marguerite stared down at her hand, holding the only connection she'd ever had to where she came from and for some reason, she resisted the urge to rip the treasured necklace from this woman's hold.

"Yes." The Baroness whispered, still holding the locket and staring at the words inscribed in the heart. _"To our daughter, Marguerite, Forever in our thoughts."_

After a moment the Baroness opened her mouth to speak but Marguerite practically leapt from the chair, sending the woman staggering to stand. "Marguerite!" She gasped. "Please, I-"

"You're my mother!" Marguerite's voice echoed like an accusation and the Baroness dropped herself into the chair that Marguerite had vacated.

Marguerite ran for the door.

"Please!" The Baroness begged, but Marguerite kept running.

Roxton was standing in the doorway to the ballroom, absently listening to one of Capt. Eric Lubbock's war stories, trying desperately to impress the Lord. But regardless of how often he did like to converse with the youngest of the Lubbock men, who was by far, the most intrigued by the Lord's life and travels, he couldn't take his eyes off the hall where Marguerite had disappeared. Turning away from the hall, just for a moment, he was startled to hear the pattering of heels on the wooden floors and spun back around to see Marguerite fleeing down the hall with her cheeks wet with tears.

"Marguerite!" He called after her, as she passed him. But she didn't hear him. Quickly he collected their things and chased her out the door. As he staggered his way down the stairs, he could hear the anguish in her voice as she begged for their driver.

"-my husband can find his own way." He heard her and with a slight glance at the ground beneath his feet, he tossed his jacket over his arm and held her shawl up to her shoulders.

"Your _husband_, will follow wherever you lead." He smiled as gently and as reassuringly as he could, when she turned to see him there, right behind her. She breathed out, almost as if she were releasing a great flood of emotion and let him wrap the shawl around her and wrap her in his arms.

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Firstly: **JaneAire** - Because you're likely one of my favourite TLW authors on here, i'm very humbled by that, thank you. **VisualIdentificationZeta** - Thanks!

Secondly: Well, as you will have likely guessed, the information i couldn't give you in the blurb at the top of Chapter 1, was that Marguerite's birth name is Marguerite Lubbock. More will, of course, be coming out about that as we move on.

--

As the car pulled away from Avebury Manor, Roxton entwined his fingers with Marguerite's as thunder clapped overhead.

He looked past her, out the window, as the rain started to bucket down and the sky erupted with lightening. _So much for calming her down_, he thought. It wasn't her fault, she could barely control it, but ever since the battle for the plateau, Marguerite's anquish, wherever it stemmed from, had caused the skies to cry for her.

He didn't know what had transpired back at Avebury Manor, but for the lightening to strike so harshly and the rain to fall so straight and hard upon the car, it can't have been good.

"Marguerite, you have to calm down." He whispered, hoping that his words wouldn't cause her to lose it completely.

She just stared at him for a moment, gripped his hand a little tighter - which was a comfort, at least - and turned to look out the window again.

"Marguerite, we'll have an accident if you don't -" His words were cut short as the car came to a screeching halt by the gates of their estate. "-What's the matter, Henry?" He questioned the driver and the man shrugged.

"Something's caught in the engine, sir, we've stopped dead."

"Could this night get any better?" Marguerite muttered, dropping Roxton's hand as she climbed out into the peltering rain.

"Marguerite!" Roxton shouted after her, unable to grab her fast enough. She started to run across the emaculately manicured lawns of their estate, towards the house. The most of the pins fell from her hair and her dark curls stuck to her dress and the sides of her face as the rain drenched her. "Marguerite, stop! You're going to catch a cold."

She spun around, tears streaking her face. Normally, such a heavy rain could mask such tears, but Roxton was far better at reading her than she sometimes gave him credit for.

"It's no colder out here than in George's bloody meteor." She yelled back, waving her arms out in defeat. "What am i supposed to do?"

"I don't know." They were both standing in the pouring rain in the middle of their front yard, dressed to the gills, their clothes, ruined.

"She's my mother, John." Her voice sounded more defeated than he'd ever heard and his heart broke for her. It wasn't like Marguerite to not know what to do. Normally she was the one ordering him around. She'd negotiated his reunion with his mother, she'd taught him that it was ok to be scared when holding Elizabeth for the first time. She'd taught him so much and now, the truth she'd been searching for since she was a child - the fact that she had a family, a mother - was killing her.

He didn't know what to say. He was nearly as shocked as she. "The Baroness? Marguerite, I-" Turning quickly, Marguerite bolted into the house and instead of trying to stop her, Roxton just followed.

Martha startled when Lady Roxton burst through the front door, the wind and the rain breaking in behind her as she ran up the stairs. Lord Roxton followed close behind, closing the door against the wind and was as drenched to the bone as his wife. He must have noticed her wide-eyed expression, because he smiled gently.

"Your chores are finished for tonight, Martha."

"Is Lady Roxton alright?"

"She will be, I'll make sure of it. Goodnight, Martha."

"Goodnight, sir." She answered quietly as she watched him jog up the stairs after his wife.

When John walked into their bedroom he noticed Marguerite's gown strewn across the floor and her robe missing from the end of the bed. Turning around, he shed his ruined jacket and made his way down the hall to the nursery. The one place he could always find Marguerite when something had gone terribly wrong.

Standing in the doorway he watched her lean down and kiss Evelyn's forehead as the baby slept soundly, her little bottom sticking up in the air as her face was planted in her pillow. Marguerite moved over to Elizabeth's bed and slowly, she slipped in behind her daughter and wrapped her arms around her. Knowing Marguerite was completely intent on making this her bed for the night, Roxton slipped off his shoes and walked around to the other side of the bed. He smiled down at Evelyn and gently manouvered her so that her face was no longer pressing into the pillow, laying her flat on her back. Turning around, he studied his wife for a moment. Marguerite didn't move but he knew she knew he was there. Slipping in behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and placed his hand at the back of Elizabeth's head, holding them both.

"I just wanted to hold something that's mine." She whispered and Roxton held her tighter.

"Gaining a family doesn't mean you'll ever lose this one." He whispered, kissing the side of her head and Marguerite nestled closer to him, turning her head so that she could look up at him.

"I didn't know what to say. I ran away from her."

"Shh-" He kissed her forehead again, brushing her slowly drying curls out of her eyes. "-it'll be alright. We work through things together, remember? I'm here."

To be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

**VisualIdentificationZeta - **Yes, Roxton was married before. As pointed out in the S4 Summary, it was possible that his wife had been a changeling who replaced Marguerite when she was spirited away from her parents by the Line of Mordren in order to keep Roxton and her from meeting. Though as fate would have it, that which is meant to be will be. They found each other. And there is good reason for the way he interacts with the Baroness. He doesn't have that Son-in-law to Mother-in-law relationship for good reason, but it'll come out later. I hope that's helpful for you.

**LadyKrux** - Hey! There you are. I was wondering if you were reading this.

--

Martha was trained as a lady's maid, though due to the Roxton's want for as few employees as possible, on top of tending to Lady Roxton's needs, she also had the near thankless task of a part-time governess. Which meant, it was her unfortunate duty to rouse the Roxton children from their beds and have them ready for the day. As adorable as they were and as much as she loved the two young girls, their morning temper's were about as volitile as their mother's.

The house-keeper, Mrs Jenkins - A woman who was old when Lord Roxton was a boy - wouldn't be caught dead near the nursery before ten in the morning and the butler, Mr Thoms, never felt it appropriate to even navigate the stairs. So, as another dreaded morning approached, so too did Martha approach the nursery with the same deep sense of foreboding she carried every morning. Along with the flashing memories of a screaming Elizabeth who didn't want to wear her pink dress because her blue dress was like her Mummy's. Or Evelyn, who sent a bowl of porridge flying across the kitchen only to clap with glee when globs of it landed on Martha's face.

Making her way slowly towards the nursery, because she had not yet seen Lord or Lady Roxton downstairs, she quietly turned the handle and winced as the hinges creaked. She was about to step inside and head towards Elizabeth's closet to collect her clothes, when she glanced towards the bed and smiled.

Lord Roxton lay on his back with Elizabeth on his belly, her cheek was resting on his chest and his hand held her in place at the small of her back. Lady Roxton, much to her surprise, was sleeping just as peacefully at his side, her hair splayed out over the pillow and her face pressed to her husband's bicep. Watching the three of them squeezed into the tiny bed was almost charming.

Stepping back outside the door and smiling to herself as she pulled it closed, Martha practically skipped her way down to the kitchen to help Mrs Jenkins prepare breakfast, and let the young family sleep.

--

On the patio, as Mrs Jenkins served breakfast for Marguerite and the children. Marguerite watched Roxton as he grabbed a few grapes from a plate and kissed Elizabeth's forehead on his way through the large french doors and out into the garden. She knew where he was heading and she smirked as she sipped her tea. When she'd finished her breakfast, she moved to the bottom of the stone steps, to where she could watch over the children and still watch her shirtless husband, hunched over the car's engine. His suspenders were hanging down around his waist and his shirt, discarded, was now covering one of the many potted-plants, lining the drive. Unabashedly enjoying the view of the sweat, glistening on his back, she glanced back, content that Mrs Jenkins was watching the girls and casually strolled towards him.

Purposely, she dug her heal into the gravel.

Roxton smiled. He heard the crunch of the gravel and he knew it was her. "The view's better from over here."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"I wasn't talking about the car."

"Neither was I." She licked her lips and he could hear it in her voice. Before he could retort, she continued. "So, what's wrong with it?"

Roxton turned to her, a knowing smirk on his face. "Mud got caught in the engine."

"Really?" Marguerite had the audacity to look perplexed. It didn't really surprise him though, she had the audacity to do almost anything, really. "However could that have happened?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know." He decided to play along, not wanting to spoil her playful mood with memories of the previous night.

"Hmm." She turned her eyes down to his toned stomach and heaved a deep sigh. "Best get it fixed then. We're taking the girls to London tomorrow, they're dying to see George and Jessie again."

"Oh, are we now?" It was the first he'd heard of it. Slowly moving towards him, she rested her palms against his stomach and nodded her head.

"Yes."

He knew what she was doing. He'd spent nearly ten years studying her every move, her every quirk. He knew far to much not to know when she was running away.

"Marguerite, maybe going to London isn't the best-"

She cut him off, letting her hands fall to her sides. "I'm not running away." She stated matter-of-factly and he inwardly slapped himself for not thinking that as well as he knew her, she knew him.

"Then what _are_ you doing?"

Her lips thinned to a line. "I'm taking my children to see an old friend."

"Just days after learning who your mother is?" He knew it was a stupid thing to say.

"She not my mother." She said stiffly, stepping away from him.

"Marguerite..."

"The closest thing I ever had to a mother was the Nun weilding the cane that made my knuckles bleed!" Roxton's heart broke. There was so little she had told him about her past and even less about her childhood. But this small revelation was just one step towards a plethora of emotions he didn't know if he was ready to feel. Emotions he was amazed, she could manage to supress all these years. "She's a woman that gave away a child. That's all she is, John, nothing more."

"But what if it's not that simple?"

"Nothing is _ever_ that simple, John, it doesn't mean it hurts any less. There are a million ways to solve a problem. She chose the wrong one." Her eyes narrowed and John could see the tears welling up as her voice lowered to a pain-filled whisper. "And i'll never forgive her."

"Henry!" Roxton called, as he pulled Marguerite into his arms and held her against his chest, feeling her breathing against his skin and the warm salty droplets of her tears.

"Yes, sir." The chueffer came jogging out of the house, his cap already on his head as though he'd been waiting to be called.

"Get this finished up, please. Lady Roxton, myself and the children will be taking a trip to the London townhouse."

"Yes, Sir." Henry nodded his head and quickly set himself to finishing up Roxton's work on the engine as the Lord led his wife inside.

Kissing her forehead, he smiled as her tears began to subside. "We'll spend a week in London. You can take Elizabeth shopping and we'll see Challenger. Then we'll see about facing the Baroness."

Marguerite nodded her head, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth. He knew there was a snowball's chance in Hell of Marguerite facing the Baroness before she was good and ready, but she'd do it. Because as much as Marguerite claimed to hate her, the truth about her mother and the questions she'd wanted to ask her had been the heaviest burden she'd carried, her entire life.

To Be Continued.


	5. Chapter 5

**VisualIdentificationZeta** - No problem, i'm glad i could help you. But yeah, the S4 summary is a great source of information on what was intended for the series. It's all really good stuff and i don't think it was a running out of ideas, i think it was a way of showing how lost Roxton was after his brother and his father's deaths. I mean, they died within weeks of each other and Roxton was left with the guilt. He married Claire because he beleived it's what his father would have wanted, though when he realised he couldn't live the lie, he had it annulled and left for Tibet. (That's actually the reason for the strained relationship with his in-laws. They weren't his in-laws for long enough, or under the best circumstances.) It was a time in Roxton's life when very little meant much to him.

**LadyKrux** - Fantastic! I'm glad. And trust me, that'll happen. But not for a little while yet. There is going to be quite a bit of Roxton-family turmoil, before it comes back to that. So staying tuned is great! Thank you!

**Everyone else that's been kind enough to comment** - Thank you so much! Your comments are great and it helps me keep on with the story. Thank you again.

--

_**Avebury Manor, 1889**_

_John fiddled with the tiny cufflinks on his little tailored jacket. As a child of barely eight years old, he was far more comfortable in the more casual clothing that allowed him free movement to run about the estate, untended. But today was a special day. His mother wanted her boys dressed in their very finest, as they attended the Christening of the very youngest heir to the Avebury Baronetcy, a girl, born not three weeks ago. _

_John didn't want to go, he was more interested in the family of lizards he'd found down by the creek earlier that morning. But he'd been bathed, scrubbed and dressed up like a china-doll, all for a baby who wouldn't even care. William walked beside him, as he held his mother's hand, far more comfortable in their surroundings. After all, he was a more sophisticated boy, at the ripe old age of twelve. John looked up to him and practised holding his chin out and up, much the way William did. _

_"Now, boys, come meet Miss Marguerite Lubbock." Their mother urged them ahead of her, patting their backs gently as they moved towards the small crib, covered in white lace and ribbons. John inwardly groaned, but as he and William shared a glance, they did as they were instructed._

_Leaning over the crib, both boys stared down at the small baby, dressed in her white christening gown. Dark curls poked out from beneath her bonnet and wide, green eyes stared up at them._

_"Now John," His father started in a gentle tone, as he moved up beside the boy and rested a hand on his shoulder. " -you understand what I mean when I tell you being a part of a noble family, like ours, comes with it's obligations?" John nodded slowly, noticing out of the corner of his eye, that William and his mother had stepped back. "Then you'll understand, that for the interests of our family, decisions are made that you may not understand just yet." His words alone were starting to confuse him, so John couldn't imagine what it would feel like to try and understand these decisions he was talking about. Slowly, he nodded his head and his father looked down into the crib at the baby. "John, I know you don't understand it now, but when the time comes, Marguerite is going to be your wife."  
_

_"Wife?" John turned up his nose. "Why do I need a wife, father?" The boy seemed utterly perplexed and his father smiled, touching John's forehead almost affectionately._

_"For a Roxton to marry a Lubbock, John, it's an important affair."_

_"But she's a girl! And she's a baby. I can't marry a baby, father. I don't want to marry anyone. Why can't William do it?" His father laughed, though John didn't find the humour in it at all. He knew what marriage was. He knew that his mother and father were constantly courteous towards each other, always polite, always considerate. But they didn't challenge one another. He had more fun wrestling with the dogs in the fields than he could ever imagine, living in a marriage like that._

_"My wife?" He whispered, looking down at her as his father stepped away. "That sounds weird, doesn't it?" He asked the baby, but her green eyes just continued to stare at him, almost as though she were looking straight through him. Squirming in her crib she let out a shriek of laughter and stretched her arms out to him. But John had never spoken to a baby before, so he couldn't figure out what she wanted. "What?" He questioned, but she just wiggled her little fingers and looked up into his eyes._

_"I don't know about being my wife, little baby. But you can be my friend if you want."_

_He smiled gently when she nestled herself down into the silk sheets of her crib, her chubby fingers resting against her mouth as her eyes drooped._

Roxton woke with a start as he heard the sound of glass shattering on the hard wooden floor beside his chair. Jumping up, he dropped his cigar, that had been dangling over the ashtray and leant over to see that it was his empty glass of whiskey that had awoken him from the very vivid dream. Or was it a memory? He wasn't quite sure.

"Lord Roxton, Professor Challenger is here to see you." John spun around in his chair to see the young fellow, standing with his white-gloved hands clasped in front of him, waiting for instruction.

"Please, send him in." The young man nodded and immediately disappeared from the room. Roxton heard the sound of feet shuffling before he noticed a familiar head of orange hair, poke through the door, preceding one of the very best of his friends.

"Lord Roxton, it's been too long." Challenger practically dashed across the room and embraced the man as a brother. Roxton grinned and patted his back before both men took a seat. "How is the indelible Lady Roxton?"

John genuinely grinned. "She's good. She's taken Elizabeth on her first trip to Harrod's." The wince on John's face was enough to make Challenger laugh out loud. He knew when Marguerite took her daughter shopping, the Lord would undoubtedly be sweating the cost.

"Well, she does have four years of fashion to catch up on."

"She's still not entirely sure she approves of the flappers, but she's certainly relieved that diamonds haven't gone out. She'd be at her wit's end, no doubt."

Challenger laughed. "And what about you? You're as pale as a ghost, are you well?"

John shrugged his shoulders and bent over the arm of the chair, remembering the shattered glass on the floor. "I've just been riffling through old thoughts, that's all."

"What's wrong, Old boy?" Challenger rested his elbows on his knees and paid his friend his full attention.

Roxton hesitated for a moment, as he rested the broken peices of glass on the small side-table. "Have you ever had a dream that you weren't sure was a dream or a memory?"

"Well," Challenger thought it over for a moment. "-no, I don't believe so. Why?"

"No real reason," He lied. "-just, Marguerite received some rather troubling news the other night and i'm fearing that it's possible I've known it all along."

"But you're not sure?"

"I don't know how I can be sure." Roxton rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm remembering things I forgot so long ago. What if I could have told her years ago but I was too useless to remember? George, how could I do that to her?"

"I'm sure it's not your fault, John. You say you don't even know if you really remember, or if you only think you do."

"The memory has to come from somewhere, though, right? I'm mean, I've never thought myself to be that suggestible."

Challenger smiled and rested a hand on his friend's arm. "Perhaps you're just trying to find a way to protect her from the coming storm, as you always do."

Roxton shrugged. "I don't know. I just...I never thought Marguerite finding her parents would be this painful, for both of us."

Challenger's eyes widened. "That was the news?!" He gasped and Roxton nodded. "My goodness, Marguerite has found her parents. Now that is cause for celebration."

"Not just yet, George." Roxton raised his hand to calm the man's excitement. "I don't think, as much as she wants to, Marguerite is ready to forgive them just yet. And if my memories are serving me right, I don't think i'll be as quick to forgive them either."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"It seems, Marguerite's family is one of the most influential in England. A family i've known quite intimately, my entire life."

Challenger's ears pricked up at the possiblilty of another fascinatingly cosmic turn of events. "So these memories that you speak of. They're of Marguerite? When you were children?"

Roxton nodded slowly. "She was the tiniest bundle, wrapped in blankets and lace. And even then I knew there was something special about her."

To be continued.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sapph** - Finally, LOL. Well, welcome to the land of alerts. I hope they serve you well. hugs Dude, the angst is for you, i know how you like it.

**Diamanta.Bralova** - I'm sure it's fine. Many people have likely had the idea of writing Marguerite meeting her parents and everyone that writes it, will write it in their way. You don't need my permission nor my approval. But i wish you luck with it. :)

**VisualIdentificationZeta** - OMG, thank you! I was so worried about that. I wasn't sure if people would have been disgusted by it but i'm grateful that you saw it in the way that I did. That it was done in those days. Thank you thank you.

--

"So, just how did Marguerite find her mother?" Challenger questioned as he studied the chessboard.

"It was fluke really," Roxton was leaning back in his chair, happily smoking his cigar and completely aware that any move Challenger made in chess took longer to orchestrate than their escape from the clutches of the Plateau. "-we were attending a party for the Baron of Avebury, John Lubbock the Second. I've never known the man all that well, but his mother's path and mine have crossed in the past. And we've never particularly seen eye to eye, especially when I anulled my marriage to Claire."

Challenger breifly spared Roxton a glance. "Claire would be, your first wife of course," He deciphered that on his own. "-but in a strange coincidence, Marguerite's sister?"

"Well, yes," Roxton winced. "-but, Challenger, after all that's happened i'm finding it very difficult to think that any of this is coincidence. I mean, it was always intended that William was to marry Claire Lubbock. I did it out of respect for my father's wishes. Now William is dead, as is Claire and Marguerite and I found each other, just as prophesied."

"I suppose you're right." Challenger fiddled with his beard. "It does all seem to fit rather intricately. A little too intricately, indeed. I just don't like to throw words like 'prophecy' around."

Roxton smirked. "You heard it from Abigail Layton as clearly as I did. We were all part and parcel to the _prophecy_ of the Plateau." Challenger practically grunted his reluctent acceptance that the truth of the plateau and their reasons for being there, weren't completely under his control. But Roxton laughed gently, knowing it didn't distress his scientifically minded friend quite as significantly as he made out. But, knowing it wasn't a subject in which Challenger liked to revel, he continued. "Mrs Lubbock recognised Marguerite as soon as we arrived. Admittedly, she is rather recognisable, even after thirty-eight years, I would beleive."

Challenger's fingers hovered over a pawn but much to Roxton's amusement, at the last moment, he favoured his Bishop. "And how did Marguerite take it?"

Roxton sat up in his chair and quickly moved a pawn before stretching his legs and leaning back in his chair again as he flicked his cigar in the ashtray. "She hasn't spoken of it. We left the party in a hurry, the next morning she insisted that the girls were in need of a trip to London. And here, dear friend, is where the story ends."

"Or comes to a middle, perhaps." Challenger eyed him, as he readied himself to study he board again.

--

The keeper of the Roxton's london house was a portly woman with a constantly stern expression. She was a strong-headed and forthright woman with very little patience for the Lady's temper and even less for the Lord's humor in watching the two woman bicker. Most adamantly, she fought, for the notion that she was their house-keeper, not their governess, and strictly refused to suffer the children's whims. Regardless of the fact Lord Roxton had caught her on several occasions, treating Elizabeth to a stolen treasure from the kitchen. Though she'd held her head high, as the Lord smirked and she'd carried on in her manner, barrelling through the halls of the old house as though her purpose were paramount.

"Lord Roxton," She stopped in the doorway as the Lord turned his head away from the game of chess he was losing, ever so pathetically, to his friend. And smiled up at her.

"Yes?"

"Pardon my intrusion, sir. But you asked to be informed when Miss Evelyn was awake."

"Oh, of course." She watched Professor Challenger's eyes watch the Lord as he leapt from his seat. Stubbing out his cigar he nodded to his friend and dashed out the door. She smiled curtly at the reddish-haired professor, before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

--

Challenger waited patiently, fiddling with the chess pieces Roxton had so readily dismissed in favour of the glittering smile of his youngest daughter. From watching his younger friend, Challenger had realised that the joy of fatherhood was a small pleasure he had slowly become accustomed to realising he'd deprived himself of, many years ago. Being a man not so easily ready to admit his shortcomings, Challenger had told no one, least of all Lord Roxton, just how much he envied the man.

Of course, there were moments when he knew either Jessie or Marguerite could see it. Though much to their credit, neither woman felt it reason enough to remark on and he was grateful to them.

"Challenger, I'm sure you remember Miss Evelyn Roxton." Suddenly lifting his eyes from the pawn he'd been twirling between his fingers. Challenger smiled warmly at the child in her white lace bonnet, her embroidered cotton night-dress and her tiny crocheted booties as she squirmed in her father's arms.

"How could I possibly forget that charming smile?" He reached up, taking the baby from his friend's hold and perching her on his knee, facing him. "And eyes so startlingly like her mother."

"Thankfully, both girls inherited Marguerite's most unique quality."

Challenger smirked for Roxton's almost whistful expression. "Thankfully, indeed." He agreed as Evelyn giggled when he bounced her.

"_Papa! Papa!_" Both men's eyes darted to the closed parlor door as the child's voice echoed through the house. Roxton grinned, hearing little feet pattering across the marbled foyer before Elizabeth came barrelling into the room.

Laughing, he gathered her in his arms as she pounced on him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Do you like my new dress, Papa?" She questioned, leaning back in his arms to show him her little red dress with her white stockings.

"It's beautiful, Elizabeth."

"Marguerite," Challenger greeted with a nod of his head as Marguerite made her way towards Roxton, dropping a kiss to his forehead, she smiled and returned the gesture.

"Challenger," Looking between the professor and the baby that was occupying the majority of his attention, she smirked. "I see she's found her next victim."

Challenger grinned. "One in a long line of very willing victims, i'm certain."

"Yes," Marguerite rolled her eyes. "-we're not so certain about that just yet. She' looks innocent enough." Her eyes narrowed and he recognized the same playful deviousness that had intrigued them all on the plateau as she smirked. "-but she _is_ her mother's daughter, afterall."

Roxton and Challenger shared a glance, before the both of them watched her disappear from the room with a pronouncedly confindent spring in her step.

"I'm unsure as to whether to believe these girls will ever turn out quite the way their mother has." Challenger commented, turning to see Roxton's eyes still set on the empty doorway.

"There was a time I wouldn't have been able to say just how proud it would make me if they did." Roxton admitted, kissing the top of Elizabeth's head.


	7. Chapter 7

Mrs Isobel Roxton marched through the foyer of her home as she removed her gloves and handed them to Martha with an appreciative nod. She pulled the pin from her hat and as her eyes and ears surveyed the house, she handed that over to.

"Martha, where is my son?"

Martha gave a slight cursty as she smiled almost apprenhensively. "My Lady and Lord Roxton have taken the children to London for the week, Ma'am."

Isobel eyed her wearily. "And she did not take you?"

Martha shook her head. "No, Ma'am."

"Would you care to enlighten me on the reason for the haste that could not await my return?" Isobel set her eyes upon the girl with a harsh glint and an air of impatience for her daughter-in-law's whims. Of which she had the annoyance of dealing with, far too often for her taste.

"My apologies, Ma'am, but I was not privy to their reasons."

Isobel sighed and she shook her travelling coat from her shoulders and lay it over the girl's arms. "Very well. When shall I be expecting their return?"

"The day after tomorrow, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Martha. It's getting quite late. I'll take tea in my bedroom and then you may see to yourself."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Martha smiled, quickly hanging Mrs Roxton's things on the coat-rack before hastily making her way towards the kitchen as Mrs Roxton headed up the stairs.

--

Marguerite lay in her husband's arms. Her fingers toyed with the edge of his shirt as she listened to his heart beating evenly in his chest. Staring up at the ceiling, she traced her eyes along the ornate patterned plaster cornices and smiled into his chest as she felt his fingers move through her hair.

"I thought you were asleep." She admonished, kissing his chest through the shirt before she turned her head in order to look up at him. Resting herself on her elbow as she did.

"I could say the same for you."

She smirked and Roxton rolled his head on the pillow, just enough to press his lips to her's gently. "You're thinking about the Baroness, aren't you?" He questioned her. Marguerite turned her head and rested her cheek against his chest again, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as she let out a deep breath.

"Do you remember Lady Yorkton and that horrible cave?" Marguerite's voice was soft and conversational. If he hadn't known better, he wouldn't have thought her intentions were anything but. Though knowing his wife, intimately, he knew that she was, in her way, reaching out to him.

"When Summerlee saved us."

"You told me about William that night."

"Yes, I remember that." Running his fingers through her hair, he soothed her and she closed her eyes.

"I never told you what I saw in the cave. I meant to, but I was so afraid if it-" She stopped herself and Roxton moved his free hand to grasp the one she had pressed into his chest. Wrapping his fingers around hers, he lifted her palm up to kiss it and she turned her head to meet his eyes again.

"I promised you once, that I'd wait. I'm not about to break that promise. I'm ready to hear your secrets, when you're ready to tell me."

"It was my mother." She whispered. "She had a music box. I remembered the tune but I couldn't place it. She had a locket, it was just like mine and she told me..." Tears were starting to form in her eyes and she turned her face away from his. Roxton, not being the kind of man to willingly watch his wife suffer, touched his fingers to her cheek and guided her face back to his. He opened his mouth to whisper something reassuring but she shook her head and continued. "-she told me that she never loved me. That my birth was a sin. A part of me knew it wasn't real but John -" She gasped out tears. "-John, do you know what it feels like to hear that from the only woman who ever admitted to being your mother?"

For the first time since they'd known each other. Roxton had no idea what to say that could possibly make the pain go away. Tears were streaming from her eyes though she forced herself to smile and wipe them away.

"It's alright to be afraid, Marguerite. But it was a hallucination. William said things to me, the very things I feared most in the world. It doesn't make them true. It doesn't mean the Baroness didn't have her reasons..." Marguerite's eyes widened at his words and Roxton stuttered. "-Marguerite, I didn't mean- I don't condone her actions. You were just a baby, you didn't deserve-"

She smiled warmly and he let out a breath of relief. Leaning over him, she kissed his lips tenderly though when they heard a faint cry from the next room, her lips stilled on his. "I'll go." She whispered, kissing him quickly and climbing out of the bed.

"They're your chance to give the gift of the life you didn't have." He called to her, as she rested her hand on the doorknob.

"That's what I intend to do." Marguerite smiled over her shoulder and made her way out the door as he watched the trail of her long white night-gown, brush against the doorframe.

He listened intently, smiling as he heard her cooing to the baby in the next room. Faintly he could hear her singing, her voice drifting down the hall.

_"...She's only a bird in a guilded cage, what a beautiful sight to see..."_

He had to laugh.

--

"Mrs Roxton." Martha came bustling into the parlor with a small folded piece of paper in her hand. Disrupting the woman's reading, though she smiled gently.

"Yes, Martha?"

"A message for you, Ma'am. From the Baroness Avebury."

Isobel stood quickly and dropped her book into her chair as she took the paper from the girl. "Lady Alice Lubbock? I haven't spoken to her in years," Meeting Martha's eye she unfolded it. "...what could she possibly-"

"Mrs Roxton?" Martha questioned. Isobel's face had gone pale and her fingers only tightened around the small letter. "-are you alright, Ma'am?"

"Yes, I," She swallowed and smiled reassuringly at her. "Yes. Please, if the Baroness calls again, tell her that I will meet with her tomorrow, here, for tea."

"Yes, Ma'am."


	8. Chapter 8

**VisualIdentificationZeta** - But they didn't kill everyone. It was a cliffhanger. Seriously, did you read the summary? It details the end of the cliffhanger (where they had no intentions of killing _anyone_) and both the secrets to the plateau and their intentions for the rest of the series. _And_ it's ending. (And btw, thank you for liking the last chapter, I hope you like the next. :)

**DehliaC** - You're going to email me? Cool! I look forward to it. ;)

**justlost** - I don't mean it, I swear. It's sometimes hard to think of where it's going. I know the overall arc. I know what I want from it but churing out the chapters is exactly how you say. One potato chip at a time. It's excruciating and i'm sorry. But i promise you, it's as hard for me as it is for you, lol. I honestly wish i could give you the whole packet, but i don't even have it. Hehehe. (Here is another chip ;)

--

_**Avebury 1890**_

_John spent the majority of the morning out in the gardens. He'd successfully disturbed an ant-hill, chased a rabbit through the grove and found the perfect present for Marguerite's birthday. She was a year old today and much to his parent's amusement, John was taking his engagment to the tiny girl, very seriously. He was a very serious child, always protecting his brother regardless of William being the elder._

_As he made his way back inside the house, his knees muddied and his little boots, scuffed. He twirled the small wreath of flowers he'd strung together, around his fingers and headed through the kitchen, down the hall and in search of his mother._

_He was about to call out to her, when he heard hushed voices coming from the parlor. Pressing his back up against the wall, he shuffled along it until he could rest his ear as close as possible, to the open doorway, without being seen._

_"We don't know what to do. She's shown signs already, how are we supposed to protect her?" It was a woman's voice he heard, a familiar one. But being a boy of only nine, he found that his mother's voice was the only one he could recognise on the sound of it alone._

_"Calm yourself, Alice. The both of you need to be calm about this. Your decision will effect the rest of her life." That was his mother, he knew it was. Edging even closer to the door, John wanted to know what they were talking about._

_"I fear that sending her away, is perhaps the best option." He heard a man say. A man that was not his father._

_"John!" The first woman gasped and while John knew that he wasn't being spoken to, he couldn't recall having met another man with his name._

_"Alice, it's the only way."_

_"But she's our baby. Whatever will she do in the world without us?"_

_Craning his neck, John pocked one eye around the corner to see an old man, holding a woman in his arms as she cried. His mother was sitting across from them. There was tears in her eyes too, but she didn't cry._

_"Alice, you need to be certain. Marguerite is special, we all know that. That's why you have to be sure that sending her away is the best option for her. It can't be done in vain."_

_The crying woman nodded her head and John's heart started to pound faster. These were Marguerite's parents. He'd met them before. Mr and Mrs Lubbock. He didn't understand, how could he understand? These people were talking of sending Marguerite away. And he'd only just come to appreciate her as a friend. It wasn't fair._

_Dropping the small wreath to the floor, John stomped into the parlor._

_"You can't send Marguerite away!" He yelled, bunching his little hands into fists and stomping his foot on the hard floor. His mother looked to him sharply and one of the tears she had been holding, fell free._

_"John, sweetheart-"_

_He cut her off. "No! It's not fair! She's my friend!"_

_"John, we don't want to send her away, but-" Mrs Lubbock tried to finish her thought, but as she looked into John's eyes, her tears only flowed more liberally._

_"John, there is alot you don't understand..." His mother tried again, but his eyes only narrowed more and his heart was slowly tightening in his chest. He couldn't understand it, he didn't know how. But he felt as though his whole world would change if they took that little baby away. It just felt...wrong._

_"I'll find her." He stated. He took one step towards Marguerite's parents. "Just you watch. You'll send her away and when I'm all grown up, I'll find her and I won't share her with you!"_

_"John Richard Roxton!" His mother gasped and stood, never having heard her little boy speak with such bitterness before._

_His mother moved to reach out to him, but he shook her hands away and ran from the room. Unwittingly, he trampled the small wreath of flowers he'd made for Marguerite. Squishing their little petals into the floor in his haste._

--

Roxton woke with a start, shooting up in his seat and nearly hit his head on the roof. Immediately, Marguerite's hand was on his shoulder and as he turned to look at her, there was a smirk on her face. "Are you alright?" She questioned.

He tried to smile, faintly, but his efforts were in vain. "I just had the strangest dream."

"Really?"

"Yes, I," He looked down into her eyes and smiled gently. "-nevermind. It was just a dream."

"Yeah, right." Slouching back in the carseat, Roxton watched Marguerite reposition Evelyn's sleeping form in her lap and turn to look out the window. He wanted to tell her what his dream was about. He wanted to tell her that he'd been having dreams about a short childhood, spent with her. But he didn't know if it was real. He didn't know if any of it could possibly ease her mind. So he closed his lips and watched her as she studied the landscape floating past the window.

"John, if you're going to tell me, tell me. If not, would you please stop staring at me." She said, without even turning away from the window.

Roxton smirked. "I'm just enjoying the view, my dear."

"Yes, well, it's the same from your window."

"Oh, I very much doubt that."

Turning his eyes down, he could barely see it, but the corner of her mouth twitched up, just a little and he smiled.

--

Isobel quickly folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket as she heard the car pull up into the drive. It was near the late afternoon and she'd been waiting on the Baroness. Peering out the window, she swallowed deeply and felt the paper with her fingers, holding it in her pocket as she watched the woman walk up her front steps. The bell for the door chimed and she heard Mr Thoms' footsteps heading in the direction of it. Straightening her skirt, she waited for him to announce her guest.

"Baroness Avebury, to see you, Ma'am." He smiled and slightly inclined his head.

"Thank you, Mr Thoms." She smiled, meeting the eyes of the Baroness as he led her into the room, then left quietly and closed the door behind himself.

"Thank you for speaking to me, Isobel." The Baroness tried to smile, but the effort was strained.

"It's been years since talk of all this. Why have you come to me now? Why burden me with this again, Alice?"

"Because I don't know what to do. Isobel, I saw my Marguerite, I spoke to her."

Isobel's eyes widened and she recoiled almost imperceptibly. "Did you tell her everything?"

"I didn't get the chance. She fled from me." A tear fell from her eye and Isobel reached across the small coffee table to take her old friend's hand. "-I don't blame her. She has every reason to hate me but..."

"You know how much I detested the decision, Alice." Her friend nodded. "That doesn't mean I don't beleive you deserve the chance to tell her the truth."

"That's why I need your help."

"My help?"

"It was in the letter. If I tell her, Isobel, you know she'll be in danger again. They've always watched over my family, waiting for her return. If they learn who she is, everything she's become is threatened."

"How could I possibly-"

Alice cut her off. "Because the prophecy came true, Isobel. We tried to keep them apart. We tried to protect them both, but there was no escaping their fate."

Isobel dropped her hand and stood, stepping around the chair to move away from Alice. "No," She whispered. "It can't be."

"Even you cannot claim it is merely coincidence."

"But John never said anything," Isobel held a hand up to her lips as she heard the sound of another car coming up the drive. "-oh no."

"What is it?" Alice joined her by the window, in time to see Lord Roxton climb out from the back-seat of the car and straighten his coat. "Isobel, he may not remember. He was just a boy. Just please, help me talk to her. She loves you, she trusts you."

"She trusts noone but my son."

"Then perhaps he can help us."

Isobel turned to meet her friend's desperate gaze. She could hear her daughter-in-law's laughter through the window and the sound of the children as they climbed out of the car. "I can't ask him to-" She stopped herself and turned back to see them climbing the stairs. Tiny Evelyn was reaching for her Papa's jacket, stretching the distance between her mother's arms and her Papa's shoulders as her parents laughed. Elizabeth skipped ahead of them, happy as can be as she stopped and waited for her Papa to take her hand and open the door.

"Isobel, please, I need her to know."

--

Roxton smiled as he watched Marguerite hand Evelyn to Martha when they entered the house. Elizabeth quickly broke away from his hand and ran for the parlor, where her Grandmother was standing in the doorway with her arms outstretched.

"Grand-Mama!" She squealed hugging her waist as the woman laughed and hugged her back.

"Was your week in London wonderful?" She asked the little girl as she craned her neck up to see her Grandmother's face.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. Mother bought me a brand new dress and we saw Uncle George and Aunty Jessie and Papa lost chess."

Isobel raised her eyebrow to her son with a smirk on her face. Roxton just shrugged his shoulders and she laughed.

"How was Edinburgh, Mother?" Roxton questioned as he kissed her cheek.

She smiled. "Oh, it was lovely. Your Uncle is quite well. He longs to see your children growing but I fear he's not well enough for another trip south."

"Well perhaps-" Roxton stalled as another face appeared behind his mother. He quickly turned and glanced at Marguerite, who's eyes widened, then turned back to the woman standing with a hopeful yet fearful look on her face. "-Baroness..."

"Lord Roxton." She inclined her head and with a small intake of breath, she turned to Marguerite. "-Lady Roxton."

"Elizabeth, come with me." She held her hand out and Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, looking up at her Grandmother who simply released her from her arms. "Elizabeth, come with me now." Marguerite insisted and the little girl quickly took her mother's hand.

Heading up the stairs, Marguerite gestured for Martha to head up the stairs before her, carrying Evelyn.

"Marguerite, please-" The Baroness halted as Marguerite turned around and met her eye with a harsh glare.

"I don't need this right now." She stated and nudged Martha's back, forcing her up the stairs as she dragged Elizabeth by her hand.

"John, please do something." Isobel begged her son but he simply shook his head and walked between the two older women, towards the whiskey flask on the small credenza in the parlor. "John, she needs to hear what the Baroness has to say."

"And Marguerite will, in her own time." He spoke with his back to them as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"But she's not being reasonable."

He slammed the whiskey stopper back in the bottle and rested his hands on the crendenza, letting his shoulders droop noticably. "Reason?" He questioned, not turning to face them. Isobel and Alice shared a glance and both turned back to him. "Where was reason when you cared for nothing but getting her as far from you as possible?"

"I did what I could to protect her." Alice responded.

Roxton spun around angrilly. "But did you ever think of what would happen to her?!"

"John," His mother gasped and he raised his finger. Words tried to leave his lips but he swallowed them as he stepped towards the Baroness.

"You are the only thing in this world that she fears." He whispered, as close to her as he dare get. The pain in his voice made her shiver but she couldn't step away, couldn't look away from his eyes. "Her life," He swallowed. "-what she's been through, the things that she's had to do to get where she is!" He was practically yelling and the Baroness shrunk away.

"John." His mother pressed her palm against his chest, stopping him suddenly in an attempt to soothe him. "Everything we did, we did to protect you. All of you."

Roxton looked down at her, confused. "All of us? What are you-?"

"John, there is more to this story than you know."

"Then damnit, Mother, tell me!" He hissed.

"Isobel." Alice warned and Isobel turned to her.

"Abigail never wanted to tell them everything. But they deserve to know. Not knowing won't protect them."

"Abigail?" Roxton stepped away from his mother. "Abigail Layton?"

Alice and Isobel shared a worried expression as Roxton backed into the cradenza. "How do you know Abigail Layton?" His mother asked.

"Well, she's Veronica's mother. The young girl that took us in on the plateau. She and Marguerite were destined to save it, they nearly killed themselves trying."

The two women grinned at each other before Alice stepped forward. "Lord Roxton. Since you were born, you were destined for one purpose..."

"To love and protect Marguerite. I know that, Abigail, she-" The knowing looks on their faces gave him pause. "-you knew?"

"Lord Roxton, we all have a purpose. Like you, Marguerite and Veronica. Abigail, your mother and I have a destiny that has been intertwined since birth."

"And that is?"

"To raise and protect the new generation of guardians."

Glancing over the Baroness' shoulder, Roxton caught Marguerite's eye. How long she'd been standing in the doorway, he didn't know. But by the look on her face, he could see that she'd heard enough and his heart broke for the expression in her eyes.

"Marguerite..." He whispered, but she averted her eyes to stare at the back of the Baroness, as her body went stiff.

"Surrounded by prophecy and destiny but you still chose to abandon me." Her voice was low and so full of pain.

No one in the room even knew how to respond.

To be continued.


	9. Chapter 9

Please, continue on. There was a notice here, but my hiatus is over. So ON WITH THE SHOW.

Please click the "next chapter" button. (Or any derivation there of.)


	10. Chapter 10

Hello everyone! I know that it's been a long time since I last posted. 2 months, in fact and I do apologise. I've been very busy, with writing and parents and a little bit of an emotional rollercoaster, not to mention boss woes. So I do hope that you're all still hankering for a new chapter, because i've got one. It's rather long, though of course...not epically (For some reason, I just can't write epically long chapters) But the next chapter is coming alot sooner than this one did, I assure you. Plus I really hope you like it.

Thank you all for being so loyal and for bugging me to keep writing it. Seriously, the bugging helped, though don't spread that truth too far. LOL. So here it is ;) -

* * *

"Marguerite-" Roxton started, but stopped himself when she met his eye. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to say it and for the first time since he met her, he couldn't read her expression like a book.

"John," She turned her eyes away from his to meet those of the Baroness, as the woman slowly turned in her place, to face her. "-Isobel, the girls need their supper."

Without hesitation, John grasped his mother's elbow and began to lead her out of the room. He paused on his way, grasping Marguerite's chin, turning her head to kiss her temple gently. "We'll be in the kitchen." He whispered and she smiled warmly, patting his chest and looking away from him again.

He nodded, then glanced at the apprehensive Baroness before leaving the room entirely.

"Perhaps you should sit." The Baroness spoke timidly. But Marguerite's stiff spine and stern expression, was enough of an answer to tell her she was staying exactly where she was.

"You said that your destiny was to iraise and protect the new generation of guardians/i." Marguerite cocked her head to the side, cynically.

"I did what I did, to protect you."

Marguerite rolled her eyes. "Do you have any idea, what kind of life I've had?"

The Baroness swallowed. "Lord Roxton may have mentioned that your life has been difficult..."

"Difficult?" Marguerite scoffed. "Difficult doesn't nearly describe it, _mother_" The older woman's heart flared in her chest, beating wildly at the contradiction of that word, on her daughter's venomous lips. It was an accusation, a curse, a knife to her heart. For years she'd longed to hear that word from Marguerite's lips - to hear anything, from her lips - but never had she imagined she'd use that one word, her title, to hurt her.

"Marguerite-"

"As a child, I ran from the police in Paris because I was afraid of going back to the cold, grey orphanage. While John was riding ponies and eating with a silver spoon, I was scrubbing the floor of the Mother Superior's office because I had the nerve to sneak in there and try and find my birth certificate, to see if there was anyway I could find you. I peered through windows on christmas eve, wishing, hoping that somewhere out there, there was a family missing me. For the longest time, I actually believed that there was a christmas stocking with my name on it, waiting to be filled." Marguerite could see the Baroness' eyes filling with tears. She hesitated and bit her lip."They gave me the finest education but never once, did even one of them, give me a hug. It's all I wanted. All i've ever wanted, was a family."

"I'm...sorry..."

"You're sorry? You're _sorry_? You're not sorry you gave me up, you're just sorry that it's come back to bite you in the ass."

"That's not true!"

"I have spent my life, living with and listening to liars, cheats...killers. You think I don't know when a person looks me in the eye and tells me what they _think_ I want to hear? I have been threatened, hunted, _accused_ of murder." Marguerite pushed past the Baroness, storming across the room as thunder cracked, lightening struck and for a moment, all the lights in the house flickered off, save for one candle perched on the piano. "Damnit, I _have_ killed; and loved and lost."

"Marguerite-" The Baroness lurched forward and grasped Marguerite's hands within her own before she could move away again. The lights flickered back on and Marguerite looked into her eyes. "-please, I am sorry for what you've suffered. I'm truely sorry that I wasn't there to protect you. I'm sorry that you've had to live with so much pain. I'm sorry, I'm truely, truely sorry." She was sobbing, gripping Marguerite's hands so hard that it almost hurt. Her whole body shook and all Marguerite could do was stare at her. All she could do was watch as her shoulders shook and tears streamed down her face. "I didn't want to give you up, I could never have iwanted/i to give you up. I had no choice, they were going to take you from us. They were going to _kill_ you." Marguerite's brow furrowed in confusion and she tried to pull away from the Baroness, but the woman only held her hands tighter, pulling her closer so that she could look into her eyes. "We thought that we could keep you. We knew that your power would grow but we thought we'd have time to teach you how to control it...we never expected that you'd be so..." She let out a breath, unable to hold her gaze any longer. "We never thought you would be so powerful."

"But as a child, I never had any powers, the sisters didn't notice anything. I never felt _anything_. Even as an adult, I never felt it. Not until the Plateau and John."

Alice shook her head and shuffled closer to Marguerite."You had to have supressed it. When you were a baby, objects moved across the nursery. When you were upset, the lights flickered and the wind howled. At first, we thought it was coincidence-" She stopped suddenly, as Marguerite's attention was drawn to the dark clouds disappating over the hills. Both women watched the sky darken as thunder rumbled low, overhead. "-but you made those things happen, Marguerite."

Turning back to her, with an expression on her face that held more confusion than actual fear, Marguerite narrowed her eyes. "Why was giving me up, the only option?"

"It was the only way that your father and I could ensure that you would live. You may have lived in anger, in turmoil and in fear, but you_ lived_." Finally she dropped her hands and Marguerite's first instinct was to jump away from her. The rain hitting the window-pane caught her attention for a moment. But she was drawn back to the woman before her. "My god, did you live. I don't know where it came from, your father was never an adventurous man and I could certainly never hope of survivng the way you have, but you - Marguerite." She breathed. "- you have a power inside you that far surpasses anything even Abigail ever dreamed of."

"And what? That's supposed to make it ok?"

Alice clasped her hands together in front of her. "No, Marguerite, none of this is supposed to be an excuse for what we forced upon you. But you deserve to know that everything we did, we did it because we loved you. I have loved you, every day that we've been apart."

Marguerite struggled with tears. She swallowed harshly and met her mother's face with a glossy sheen covering her eyes. Anxiously, she twirled her wedding band around her finger and bit her bottom lip. "I've searched for you, all my life." She whispered and hope returned to Alice's expression. Her eyes were more of a dull, grass green, rather than Marguerite's vibrant emerald. Nonetheless, any onlooker could see the similarity.

Alice choked on a smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"Are you, Really?" There was a long pause between lightening strikes and Alice breathed out.

"Even if we can never be close again; just to see your face-" Reaching forward tentatively, she touched her daughter's cheek and for the first time, Marguerite didn't flinch away. "- My life has been worth it, just to see you now. Just to see how beautiful your heart is."

"My heart wasn't always beautiful." She confessed.

Alice smirked. "Love changes people."

Smiling genuinely, Marguerite touched her ring again and looked up into her face. "True."

"I only hope he's willing to do the impossible to keep you safe."

Marguerite stepped back suddenly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Marguerite, I was always afraid of this. That to see you again would only mean i'd have to send you away."

"I don't understand." Her brow furrowed.

"They've always been watching me. Your brothers and Claire have lived a sheltered life and a safe one because the Mordren stayed away. I fear now, that knowing you are back will only cause them to show themselves once more. I'm not without my own gifts, Marguerite, I can feel them. I've always been able to feel them."

"Then what are we supposed to do? You force me to know you, force me to realise who I am, and all the while you knew that it could bring the danger back."

"I've endangered the safety of this home, I - "

Marguerite cut her off. "You've endangered my children!"

"Marguerite, I - "

Marguerite stepped away from her, turned, and headed for the foyer. "Roxton!" She called up the stairs, knowing he'd be within earshot. Seconds passed and Roxton appeared at the top of the stairs, his shirt was un-tucked and his feet bare.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he made his way down the stairs quickly, seeing the frightened expression in Marguerite's eyes.

"We have to go. Somewhere, anywhere. We have to get out of here."

Roxton grasped her hands and held them firmly, calming her only slightly. "What happened?"

"Marguerite, I don't know yet, that they'll return." Alice caught up with her and Marguerite turned from her husband.

"But you said they might. You said that they'll know i'm back."

Roxton turned to Alice, unable to do anything but stare at her for a moment. "What is going on?" He demanded, holding Marguerite's shoulders tightly.

Marguerite grasped the side of his face. "John, it's Mordren. She says that if he finds out I'm here, he'll come for me."

Roxton stared at Marguerite, then turned to Alice with narrowed eyes. "I thought we got him, I thought we finished him on the Plateau. She and Veronica, they made the Earth quake, they made the sky darken and he died. I saw him die. It was the end of him."

"The end of one, perhaps-" They both turned to Alice then, confusion in their eyes. "- but the Mordren are a family, an ancient bloodline in opposition to the protector. There are far more men than one. And many who wish you dead, dear daughter."

Marguerite narrowed her eyes at the woman who claimed to be her mother. "Why?" She shuffled closer to Roxton, pressing her body into his in order to ground herself. "I thought the fight for the plateau was what they wanted to prevent? We overcame that, we beat them. What more could they want from me?"

"You're the balance, Marguerite. You'll always be destined for far more than a single act. If they were to take you out of the equation...If they could somehow tip the balance-" She turned her eyes down to the floor.

Marguerite continued to stare at her and Roxton swallowed. "We'll go back." He whispered and in an instant, Marguerite's fear was pushed aside.

"I knew getting off that god-damned plateau could never be that easy."

Laughing slightly, Roxton ran his palm over her shoulders. "I know you hate it, Marguerite, but chances are it's safer than here."

"I can't believe this is happening. Why did you even come to me, why couldn't you let us be?"

Alice clasped her hands in front of her and dropped her chin to her chest. And with a soft voice, she answered. "Because I hoped that a small part of you, was like me. I hoped that like me, regardless of the consequences, you would want to know. I did it for you, Marguerite-" She looked up. "-I've done this for you. You can go now, you can take your children somewhere safe, you can raise them to be strong and loyal and you can forget that I even exsisted. But you'll go _knowing_. I hoped that that would be enough."

Roxton watched the side of Marguerite's face as she stared at her mother. Her expression solid and her eyes, fixed. She swallowed deeply and on the verge of tears, nodded her head before pulling on his arms. "We have to go, now."

Roxton helped her up the stairs silently. Glancing back he saw Alice standing there in the foyer, just watching them. And he knew that it was done. Their time in the world was over.

It was time to go home.

To be continued.


End file.
